Salute The Toff

Waikato Times, Volume 127, Issue 21176, 27 July 1940, Page 12 (Supplement)

Salute The Toff

1 OCR SERIAL STORY

BY JOHN CREASEY

CHAPTER XVIII. Recognised Both Men j The Toff had recognised both men i in the light that streamed l'rom the I doors of one of the hovels. Wellj ward, well-muffled up in a greatcoat and a trilby hat, but his frank open features unmistakable. Redsmith, thin, and with his face dif- • ferent indeed from the quiet, protesting countenance turned so often | towards the police and the Toff. ! Redsmith! As the Toff went forward, springj ing from his toes and with hardly I a sound, he wondered desperately ! whether he had come in time. Ani other ten seconds would certainly j have been enough to see Wellward dead, with a knife in his ribs, j The Toff’s right had swept down- ! wards, as the knife touched the baro- : net’s coat. Redsmith gasped with pain, and the knife dropped from his fingers, while Wellward was dropping back, his face ashen. “Well, Abraham!” murmured the Toff. He was still gripping the old man’s arm, and Abraham Redsmith looked as though he woifld faint. But the Toff was thinking fast, for with the light streaming from that open door were three or four men of the plugj ugly type—and he recognised the j vast form of Tike Ret ter. j Redsmith screeched: j “Tike! Tike!” I The Toff did the only thing he j could in the circumstances. He re- ; leased the antique-shop owner, grabbed Wellward, and pushed him with ; his back against one of the ware- ■ houses. And the same moment he ; slipped his automatic from his ! pocket. His voice whipped out, the Toff’s voice, filled with a mockery and a challenge that could strike fear into I the worst rogues of the East End. ! “Take it easy, Tike! I’ve been wait- ' ing for a long time to shoot you. i But despite his apparent confidence he knew that it would be ; touch and go. Something hurled through the air towards him—a knife • stuck quivering into the wood of a window behind him. A bottle crashed with a loud thud on the wall, shattering into a thousand pieces—and the light of the cottage doors went out. In the pitch darkness the Toff could hear the soft, stealthly approach of three or four men. He dared not show his torch, for it would tell them in a moment where • he was. But he touched the trigi ger, and a bullet snapped out on its ! errand of death. As it went he j darted to one side, knocking against | Wellward. ' The baronet was tight-lipped, muti tering to himself, but keeping his

courage. Another knife hummed through the air, striking- where the Toff had been a moment before. And in front of him he saw the lurking figure of one of Tike Ret.ter’s 1 men. He fired point-blank. The man i swore and dropped back, moaning ' with pain, while the Toff muttered: “East towards the right, Wellward ! —there’s a passage.” Wellward obeyed, but the Toff knew that others were joining the hunt. Doors of the cottages opened and closed. The silence seemed worse because it was filled with the soft, rustling sound of men moving towards him, planning to rush at him the moment they could safely be away from the range of his gun. “Tired?” demanded the Toff jaunt- j ingly. Another oath snapped out, and ! three or four men rushed together, i The Toff side stepped, pushing out i his leg and tripping one man up. He shoved him, sending him crashing into the others —and he was by the end of the passage. But so were Retter’s men! Wellward was suddenly hit across the back with a leather cosh that missed his head. The baronet cried out in pain, but kicked against the men who were with him. The Toff realised—and grinned at it—that. Wellward had driven his men back for a moment, but now the Toff’s gun was useless, for he was in the middle of the bunch of thugs, fighting desperately, with Wellward doing his bit, gasping for breath. The Toff’s hands were aching, there was a pain in his right shoulder that seemed to shriek, and there was a red mist in front of his eyes. He did not know where Wellward was. He fought automatically, smashing his fists into leering faces, hearing the muttered curses of the Better gang. He had an odd, frightening feeling that he had reached the end. He knew that if once they managed to batter him into unconsciousness, he would never awaken. The river would take him, one day Chief Inspector Horace McNab would look down on a swollen body, and The thought, fleeting though it was, seemed to give Rollison new life. He went forward, bunching like a battering ram, and the crowd —half-a-dozen strong—dropped back from the sheer force of it. And then they surged forward again. The Toff’s foot caught against something heavy on the ground. Wellward! When he was gone He hardly heard it at first, certainly he was not aware of what was happening. But suddenly the crowd in front of him dropped away, fists and pieces of iron no longer smashed at his face and shoulders. Vaguely, leaning against the wall and breathing so deeply that his chest seemed on fire, he saw half-a-dozen smaller fights. And then suddenly Pete Delray was beside him. “Rollison! Rollison!” “I'm all right. Wade —in!” gasped the Toff. t'i'o be continued)